Imogen and the Immortal

Her passage grew slicker, but still it did not yield to him. Frustrated, the vampire pulled away from her mouth to watch the joining of their loins as he slammed into her again and again. He could command her, he knew, and her body would part before his knot despite its instincts. Yet he savored the pain in her eyes, the determination with which she now moved against him, rocking her hips to try and slicken their joining.

He watched as she rocked to and fro, eyes closed, her lips parting again with the myriad sensations passing through her once-innocent form. Her hand went to her breast even as he toyed with the other, and she began to pinch and squeeze at her peak, the first time she had ever touched herself thus.

Her masturbation stirred him into a frenzy. He drove into her faster, heedless of her cries of pain as he strove to hilt himself again in her depths. With one final hammering, he knew not to withdraw but to surge against her as hard as he could, and he drank in her every expression as he felt that soft body give way to the knotted base of his meaty shaft.

Imogen opened her eyes and looked into the monstrous face that leered at her, drinking in the agony of emotions that swept through her as that orb finally found its way inside her. It was too big, and yet her body swallowed it, closing around it as though it would never again let it go. Its entry was a thing of terrible pain and wondrous pleasure, for it rubbed against some point of ecstasy within her, and Imogen screamed as she quaked in exquisite release.

The creature's fangs grew with its rapture, and in another moment he had slammed his teeth into the girl's neck, sucking lustily at her blood as he hilted himself in her more thoroughly than he had imagined, his seed spurting into her as her flesh quivered around him. Their limbs were motionless in the heat of their climax, yet his maw worked at her neck, her blood filling his mouth even as his seed filled her body. His cock trembled as it spewed forth its silvery load, and Imogen's body seized on the organ in a desperate need to gather its essence deep inside herself, while his fangs in her neck pushed her over the edge a second time. Instinctively, her legs encircled the beast and locked together behind its back, forcing it deeper inside her. Still sucking desperately on her blood, the creature felt the woman begin to rock herself on his shaft, driving her body to another climax, and another, and another, so that she moaned and wept at the unthinkable ecstasy of being claimed so thoroughly by a vampire.

A minute passed, and another, and Imogen's cries became again soft sobs of denial and shame as she rode the final waves of her release, her legs still clasping the vampire to her. And all the while Cassius spilled his monstrous seed inside her, and with that act and the drinking of her blood he marked her forever as his own.

Cassius drew a ragged breath, reluctantly pulling his fangs from her neck. Her blood coursed from the two puncture marks, two lines of red joining together to trickle down her breast, scarlet next to the auburn flame of her hair.

He had withdrawn from her neck but could not yet withdraw from her body. Gripping her by the waist, he lowered them slowly to the ground. Imogen's eyes were closed. Her head lolled to one side; her energy fled, she was on the verge of collapse. The creature would have set her down on the divan. As it was, they were locked together, and there was no room for a winged beast such as he upon that surface. He lowered her to the floor instead, his thighs against the back of her own, then lifted her carefully by the waist to rotate her along his length so that she came to rest on her stomach.

She groaned as he moved to lie down, the knot pulling at her opening as he settled them both on their sides, his body pressed to the back of her own. Imogen drifted in and out of sleep, unable to escape fully from the awareness of that terrible beast. Her body ached around the strange thing caught inside it, and the vampire still fondled her breasts, as though he had not thrice slaked his lust in her. After a while he moved to pull out of her, but the muscle held and Imogen moaned in pain, and the creature remained in place, unwilling to harm their chances of conception. He twisted her body slightly to reach her breast, and began to suck on it, licking the blood that had coursed down her chest while he had taken her. Thus they lay, joined together, the monster finding pleasure in her body even as she slept.

It was nearly an hour later when he finally withdrew from her, his silver seed trickling to the ground as the knot was released. Imogen moaned again, and in her sleep she curled into a ball, desperate even in slumber to ward off thoughts of what had been done to her.

He picked her up and began the trek back to the surface with her naked form soft and unmoving in his arms. Watching the rocking of her breasts, seeing the shimmering proof of his seed caught in the auburn hair of her sex, he grew hungry again for the feel of her body stretched around his length.

But there would be time later, he knew. He had nothing but time, after all.

***

Near the end of summer, Imogen woke in the early hours of the morning. She had fallen asleep in Frederick's bed again. Sighing, she slipped from the sheets and picked up her robe from the floor. She would have return to her own chambers before the household stirred. After all, their wedding was still months away, and there would be hell to pay if it were discovered that they had lain together before being joined in matrimony. Soon, there would be no hiding it.

Frederick groaned softly in his sleep, and Imogen shook her head, desperate to chase away the nightmare that flashed through her mind at that guttural, male sound. The robe was coarse against her skin, and she longed for the softness of her favorite silken nightgown, but that too led her down a dark trail of memory; the white rags of that garment likely still lay there on the floor at the scene of her debasement.

She hurried from Frederick's room into the dark hall, then dashed noiselessly down its length to her own bedroom. With a soft click the door drew closed behind her, and she stepped into the pale moonlight that spilled in through the high-set windows.

In that ethereal light she stood, turning her body to the tall mirror in the corner. The robe slipped from her shoulders, whispering to the floor, and she stood in her naked glory before the mirror. Her breasts had grown heavy, and though Frederick had commented on that during the heat of their coupling, he had yet to grasp the implication. But Imogen knew. Turning to the side, she let her hands rest on the curve of her belly, that growing bump that promised a child.

That night, that dark, nightmarish night, the monster had planted its seed inside her. She had known it beyond a doubt when she woke in her bed the next morning. Her body had been bruised and tender and aching, her thighs smeared with his essence, her neck streaked with her own blood. He had forced himself upon her, forced his seed within her, had forced her to take his length and his knot, and his fangs. And he had forced upon her another gift, his bite unintentionally imparting the gift of prescience, so that she had woken to a vision of the daughter she would bear, the beautiful child with eyes black as night. The monster's daughter.

And though she ached, and though her flesh was bruised, and though she wished to never again know the touch of a man, Imogen had known there was no choice but to convince Frederick that the child was his own. How easy it had been to seduce him, and to make him think that the seduction had been his own idea. In the dark of night, he did not see the mark a beast had left on her neck, on her breast, did not know her moan of pain at their joining was due to the battering the beast had given her passage, rather than the loss of her maidenhead. She would tell him soon of her pregnancy, and the wedding would proceed a little sooner than anticipated.

Imogen sighed again, thinking of the future. Her prescience had shown her that the beast would come one day to claim its daughter, and its daughter's daughter, and even the daughter of that child. She wondered how many years she had before he would come again.

Her prescience failed her. From the shadows strode that creature of nightmare, and in his dark eyes was the promise that he would come again this very night, buried inside her. Imogen gave a quiet sob, knowing that he would have her, and knowing that she could never tell a soul, for to do so would be to reveal her child's heritage, and then they would both be cast out, or worse. Imogen longed to scream for help, but she dared not, lest her sins be discovered.

No, only she must know what occurred between her and the monster in the midnight hours. Only she would know the secret of her defilement. Only Imogen, and the immortal.